


Red Knuckles And Concerned Stares

by phylocalist



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, [murder is the case that they gave me plays softly in the background], frank going full leathermouth mode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:25:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phylocalist/pseuds/phylocalist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Their singer even wears <i>makeup</i>. Like honest to God makeup that you buy in those girl stores.”</p><p>Frank drops his cigarette to the ground, stubs it out with his heel, takes a deep breath and most definitely <i>not</i> thinks about ripping apart this person’s head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Knuckles And Concerned Stares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reclist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reclist/gifts), [koscheis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/koscheis/gifts).



> sage said 'write a fic where frank defends gerard from a transmisogynist and homophobic piece of trash'. then kelly said 'write about gerard taking care of frank's hand after he punched that person'. and so i wrote.
> 
> content warning for uncensored t slur and f slur used constantly, also frank punching someone. set in danger days era.

The alley at the back of the venue is surprisingly quiet, amplifying the click of Frank’s lighter as it ignites and he sucks in a breath to light up his cigarette. He takes a drag, exhales the smoke out through his mouth towards the orange afternoon sky, pockets the lighter. He gets halfway through his cigarette when he hears a couple of soft voices grow louder as they approach the entrance of the alley.

Frank mentally preps himself to meet a couple of fans that will inevitably see him if they glance towards the alley. There’s kids queueing outside the venue, yes, but the line goes the other way around the block so he knew there wouldn’t be a bunch of them on this side when he decided to go out for a smoke in the middle of soundcheck - he can still hear Gerard’s voice faintly through the closed door singing along to their cover of Astro Zombies.

As the voices approach they become clearer. Frank knows he shouldn't eavesdrop but it’s not like he’s trying to do it anyways, it’s just that alley amplifies the voices and it’s impossible for him to not listen. When the first few words reach his ears, he really wishes he could somehow go deaf spontaneously.

“What a bunch of faggots, huh?” The voice is deep and Frank immediately pictures a man with broad shoulders and a beard in a plaid shirt before he shakes his head to get the image off his mind. Gerard would probably tell him off for assuming someone’s gender and/or appearance just by their voice. He still grimaces at the words, though. “Heard they used to kiss onstage.”

A laugh like a loud, very annoying honk is heard and Frank assumes it’s the other person in the conversation. He takes another drag out of his cigarette, almost down to the filter, tries to talk himself out of going there and starting a fight. It’s obvious who they’re talking about.

“Their singer even wears _makeup_. Like honest to God makeup that you buy in those girl stores.”

Frank drops his cigarette to the ground, stubs it out with his heel, takes a deep breath and most definitely _not_ thinks about ripping apart this person’s head.

“What the fuck is he, a tranny? I can’t believe this many people wanna see this fucking band, how low has the music scene dropped.”

The second voice isn’t as deep as the first one but it comes out with such hate and repulse that it has the same effect on Frank, his mind conjuring the picture of a muscular guy in a sleeveless shirt and cut offs. He shakes his head again, pinching the bridge of his nose - seriously, he _has_ to stop doing that; Gerard would totally be disappointed in him after all he’s been through and all he’s taught Frank about gender.

“Fuck,” Frank mutters, thinking he’s quiet enough for it to not be heard all the way to the street but realizes he was wrong when a head pops from the curb of the alley, looking down it and finding Frank leaning on the wall.

The person meets Frank’s eyes and smiles. They have blond short hair and they do have a beard, so Frank doesn’t have to feel shitty about assuming that. They’re skinny, though, and look like they could probably use some weight lifting, but Frank is no one to judge. They wave a hand at him and start walking towards him, bringing along their friend. Frank makes shifty eyes at them; do they not know he’s literally one of the people they were just talking shit about?

“Hey, man!” Frank grimaces. He doesn’t mind anyone calling him _man_ , but the fact that they used a gendered term just seconds after they glanced at him makes his skin crawl. “You’re not sick of these guys’ shitty noise yet?” The blond person points at the door leading to the inside of the venue with a thumb. The sound of Ray’s guitar is faint, but still recognizable.

Frank glances to the door and shrugs noncommittally. They obviously don’t know he’s in the band, otherwise they would’ve probably yelled some kind of homophobic slur at him and tried to pick a fight with him or something. He takes another cigarette out of his pack and lights it up.

“You guys here for the show?” Frank asks, letting out the smoke through the side of his mouth. He knows they’re not here for the show but he still asks if only to mess with their nerves.

The blond one fakes a shiver. “God, no.”

Frank narrows his eyes a tiny bit, not really enough for them to notice, and takes another drag out of his cigarette.

“We just brought our girlfriends to the show, but we’d never want in with a band like this.”

Frank snickers. “A band like what?”

“Just. A bunch of faggots and a tranny making shitty pop music who are probably only in a band because it lets them get laid with the groupies.” The blond one shrugs. “That kinda band.”

Frank tries really hard to not go off - like, he _really_ tries, but by the time the blond one’s halfway through their sentence Frank’s hands are already balled into fists. He uncurls one just to take the cigarette out of his mouth and throw it down to the floor.

“Huh,” is all he says, still looking at the stubbed out cigarette on the floor, before his fist connects with the blond one’s nose.

His blood is boiling inside his veins and filling him with adrenaline so he doesn’t even think about it when he grabs the blond one by the neck of their shirt and punches them again. Something cracks and the other one, a brunette one, steps forward with their hands stretched towards them in a vain attempt to grab their friend and get them out of Frank’s grasp that’s cut short when Frank shoots a deadly stare at them.

They run off towards the street, out of sight in a matter of seconds. Frank returns his eyes at the blond one, who’s trying to get Frank to let go of their shirt but Frank’s hand is balled up so tight in a fist it’s to no use. His other hand, the one he used to punch them, is also still balled up in a tight fist, ready to punch again any second now.

“My name’s Frank." He smiles and it's nothing like the kind of smiles he ever gives Gerard, this one's sharp, dangerous and hypnotizing, like broken glass. "I happen to be one of those faggots and I'm that tranny's boyfriend. Bet you didn't know that, eh?"

The blond one's looking at him with scared, pleading eyes, shifting his gaze from Frank's fist up in the air ready to strike again to Frank's dangerous smile and angry stare.

"Please, I - I didn't think -"

Frank cuts him short with a snort. "Of course you didn't think. The lone neuron still alive in your brain isn't enough to let you realize what a piece of shit you are."

"I promise I won't -"

"No, you won't anything," Frank snarls. "If it were for me, you wouldn't even _breathe_ again. Be thankful this is all you're getting."

As Frank's fist connects with the blond one's jaw, sending their head back with the force of it, the door leading to the venue slams open.

"Frank, I swear to God we're gonna -" Ray's exasperated voice can be heard thorough the entire alley but Frank's too wrapped up in his anger to notice it. "Shit, _Frank_!"

Ray's sprinting down the alley to reach Frank and tug at his shoulder forcefully, making him lose a bit of his grip on the blonde one's shirt. Frank growls.

"What the fuck, Frank?!" Ray wraps his arms around Frank's middle and tugs, hard, finally making Frank let go of the shirt. The blond one drops to the floor immediately as if they had been held up only by Frank's grip on them and curls up, whimpering and covering their bleeding nose protectively with a hand. "The fuck are you doing?!"

"He called us faggots. And said Gerard was a tranny." Frank feels detached as he repeats the person's words to Ray, still concentrated on the whimpering mess on the floor. He feels Ray's grip twitch over his abdomen, just knows Ray's grimacing and probably considering going after the person too, so he tries to step forward but as soon as he does Ray's grip of steel comes back.

"Hey, c'mon, you know you won't solve anything like this." Ray tries for his reasonable tone, the one he uses to talk them out of their most dangerous ideas, but Frank can tell he really wants to punch the fuck out of this person too. "And Gerard will get mad."

That's what finally calms Frank down, the name immediately sending an urgent signal to his brain. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, his eyes closed, uncurling his fists. He takes one last look to the person on the floor, still curled up protectively over themself, and spits at them with all the hatred and anger he can muster - which is a lot.

"I like that kinda band."

Frank grabs at Ray's arms around him; Ray seems kinda hesitant to let him go at first, but complies and Frank storms to the door, slamming it shut when he gets inside the venue.

Ray takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, squeezing his eyes shut. He glances at the person on the floor.

"Seriously? Shut the fuck up and don't show up around here again unless you wanna get your head ripped off by Frank's bare hands." He's not even exaggerating.

The blond one nods vigorously, fear filling up his eyes. Ray sighs and turns back, getting inside the venue after Frank to make sure he doesn't punch anyone else who dares to do so much as _look_ at Gerard wrong.

Frank storms into the venue, his anger the tiniest bit subdued but still pretty out there, making his skin crawl and the hairs at the back of his head stand up. He walks up to Gerard immediately, the latter singing some tune into the microphone, totally oblivious of Frank's entrance. Frank makes himself present by simply grabbing Gerard's hand off the microphone stand and dragging a very confused Gerard along by it to the dressing room.

Ray walks in after Frank just in time to see both he and Gerard disappear down the corridor that leads backstage. Everyone turns to look at him and he fidgets, taking a deep breath.

"Let's all lay off Frankie for a little bit, okay?" He glances to where they disappeared. "And let them work out whatever they need to work out." He sees Mikey glancing anxiously towards the corridor and tries to catch Mikey's eyes with his. "Alone," he says in a firm tone, leaving no room for discussion.

Mikey bites his lip but nods, turning over and playing some random notes in his bass. Ray nods and everyone else nods too. Nobody but him, and probably Gerard in a couple moments, know what happened out there but they all saw Frank storming in and the way he seemed to radiate anger, so they understand.

 

"Frankie?"

There's a tinge of anxiety in Gerard's voice as he speaks and Frank sighs but doesn't stop walking, neither he lets go of Gerard's hand until they get inside the dressing room. Once they get inside, Frank starts pacing up and down the room like a caged lion, his hands spasmodically balling up into fists and uncurling over and over again.

Gerard stands in front of the closed door where Frank left him, twitching, worrying his lip between his teeth, anxiety written all over his face.

"Frankie?" Gerard asks again, his voice a bit strangled with worry this time around. "Is everything alright?"

Gerard obviously knows there's something wrong but doesn't wanna pry too hard. His voice is soft and open as he asks, letting Frank know what he knows already, that he can trust Gerard with anything and everything and it'll be alright. It's this, this sense of comfort, familiarity and being safe, that makes him snap out of it.

He stops pacing, takes a deep breath. He looks up at Gerard with a smile that feels a bit forced on his face and eyes that do nothing to hide away his residue anger. Gerard walks up to him and Frank grabs his hand again, leading them both gently towards the couch, sitting down and urging Gerard to do the same.

Gerard does, grabbing Frank's hand in between both of his and pulling it up to his lips, peppering kisses over his red knuckles, softly massaging them. He looks up at Frank with worried eyes.

"What happened?" Gerard asks and his voice is so soft and concerned Frank feels something break inside him, the anger abandoning him all at once leaving him exhausted.

"There was this asshole outside the venue." His voice comes out in a monotone. Gerard doesn't stop massaging his fingers. "He called you a tranny." Gerard doesn't even flinch at the word, his gaze still fixed on Frank's hand. "So I punched him."

Frank's eyes are fixed on Gerard's face, so he can see the little twitch of Gerard's mouth as it tries to quirk up.

"Does it hurt?" Gerard asks, softly, totally diverting the situation from him as he so constantly does.

Frank looks down at his hand, shrugs with one shoulder. "It's hurt worse."

It doesn't even hurt that bad from the punches he threw, his knuckles red but with no trace of torn skin or blood in them; Frank thinks it hurts more from having it balled up in such a tight fist for so long.

Gerard snorts. "I'm sure it has."

Gerard's gaze doesn't stray away from Frank's hands, his fingers so soft on massaging the pain in Frank's better. There's not a single trace of anger or hurt in his face, he's just so worried about Frank and his pain, and Frank feels like fucking _crying_.

This is what he loves and protects. This Gerard in front of him, tending to Frank's pain and ignoring his own, which is probably far worse than whatever pain Frank is feeling right now. He thinks back at middle school, at the slurs aimed at him and the punches that accompanied them. Punches might hurt for a while but the body heals and takes the pain away. Words, though; words can sting like a motherfucker and haunt you forever. But Gerard doesn't even seem fazed by it, not showing any kind of reaction to the word or knowing it was directed at him.

Frank knows it's because Gerard's resigned to this, to be thrown slurs at for the rest of his life, solely because he's unashamed about who he is. He knows he's put a target on his back by not toning down his self and identity at all and he wears that fact with pride. Frank's always so amazed at his bravery, he doesn't think he could deal with all of that on his own.

But then again, Gerard's not on his own. He has the band, his family, friends and, most importantly, he has Frank, who would go through hell and back just to make sure Gerard's happy and safe. He'd give his all and then some.

He wants to tell Gerard all of this; about how fiercely he'd defend him from any asshole who dares throw any kind of insult at him, about how he'd give up all of himself just to see Gerard's warm smile curl his lips up, about how he'll kiss the pain away even when Gerard tries to hide it behind a bunch of eyeshadow and feather boas. But the immenseness of the emotion clogs up his throat and the words get stuck, refusing to get out.

Gerard seems to somehow sense this because he looks up at Frank with warm eyes filled with love. "Hey." He brings Frank's hand up to his face and kisses Frank's knuckles again. "You'll be okay."

Frank swallows thickly around the knot in his throat. When he talks, his voice comes out raw with emotion.

"Yeah." He smiles, a bit tired at the corners, brings Gerard closer to him by the hand he's holding and rests his forehead against Gerard's. He rubs the tips of their noses together, relieving in sound of Gerard giggling. "We'll be okay."


End file.
